If I was one of those people who wrote blog posts more like an essay, and less like a stream of consciousness poured onto a computer screen, the entire thing could have made more sense. But this is what you get.
Here is a website that explains why Christmas is on December 25th. I've read this before. Basically, it was a pagan holiday. Early Christians chose this day so it would be easier to convert the pagans to Christianity.
The pagan origins of the Christmas date, as well as pagan origins for
many Christmas customs (gift-giving and merrymaking from Roman
Saturnalia; greenery, lights, and charity from the Roman New Year; Yule
logs and various foods from Teutonic feasts), have always fueled
arguments against the holiday. "It's just paganism wrapped with a
Christian bow," naysayers argue. But while kowtowing to worldliness must
always be a concern for Christians, the church has generally viewed
efforts to reshape culture—including holidays—positively. As a
theologian asserted in 320, "We hold this day holy, not like the pagans
because of t…
And Happy Hannukuh
And Happy Holidays
And Seasons Greetings!
I just have to throw this out there. I've been increasingly irritated as I scroll through facebook these days, at E-Card after E-Card proclaiming that we're putting "Christ Back in Christmas."
This is how I see it.
Nobody who says Happy Holidays hates Jesus.
I know, that's extremely profound. Do you know why we say Happy Holidays? It's not because people want to forcibly rip the savior from the Christmas season. It's because there are loads of other people who celebrate their cultural and religious holidays at around the same time as Christmas. It's not because they hate Jesus, it's because in the spirit of love and friendship and all that jazz, there are people out there who want to give a shout out to other people who might be celebrating. It's so that our friends who maybe don't celebrate in the exact same way we do will feel like you thought of them too.
I'm planning on doing the Half Manitoba Marathon again in the spring, and losing a few pounds would be nice. Nothing says "Go Me!" like running 13 miles with the super fun extra 20 pounds I happily and deliciously gained back. It would have been more, but cabbage soup has helped to chase away a little of it.
Update on the 8 pounds in November - I hit 7. I'm good with that.
Where was I? Right, half marathon in June. Two years ago I signed up for my first one. I ran my ass off for months getting ready. I was pretty anxious about being able to finish it, and do well, and not have to walk the last 11 miles so I trained like a crazy person.
Last year? Well, I may have been a little cockier, or lazier, or both. I ran a little in the spring.
Year 1: I ran 13 miles. It was good. Carried on with my day.
Year 2: I ran 13 miles 7 minutes slower. Wanted to lay down in a ditch around mile five. Was sore for a while.
Tennyson: Mommy, when I grow up I'm going to be a cowboy.
Me: Oh honey, you're probably not.
Tennyson: No really, I'm gonna be a cowboy and I'm gonna get a lunchbox and every day I'm going to pack two sandwiches and two apples.
Me: Oh are you!
Tennyson: Yeah, and if someone tries to get you I'll catch them with my lasso and I'll tie them up in knots.
Me: Okay honey, thanks.
This kid has so many ideas, and no matter what his plans are he's always thinking about his meals. I overheard him telling Mitchell a few minutes later that the two sandwiches and two apples were so that he could have a sandwich and an apple for breakfast and lunch. Of course he'd come home for supper.
I always say Tennyson is going to marry the first woman who makes him a sandwich.
Just so you know, if you pull a muscle in your ass, participating in a Zumba class will not, in fact, help to "work it out."
Seriously. I wish someone had told me this earlier today.
On Sunday I went to Carberry for a kids Christmas party at the rink/bowling alley. It was great fun. The kids bowled, skated, sat on Santa's knee, helped themselves to multiple helpings of delicious snacks, and spent the afternoon with Grandma.
I had fun too. I totally kicked Mitchell's butt bowling.
But I pulled a muscle in my ass. I first realized it when I slipped around the ice helping my kids "skate." I figured that it must have happened bowling. Of course with my perfect bowling form, and refusal to hop in all the wrong places during my delivery, it's seriously surprising that I did some strange thing to a weird, deeply buried muscle, but I did. Go figure.
Today I thought to myself, "Self, you hardly feel that tender muscle unless you move around. I'm sure a …